After her triumph, Lucy rode the wave of adrenaline and victory for the next few days in sheer delight. She gained the power to get back into her bed and get a good night's sleep. The best part was that instead of smelling Spot's distinctive, intoxicating scent in her sheets, she smelled David. He had rested on her pillows when he came to see her, and breathing him in, she knew, was far better for her than Spot.

She was not whole and healed completely, and in truth she new she never would be, but for the time being it was a significant step forward to her recovery. She released the emotions Spot had made her feel, during their relationship and afterward, and it was as though a demon flew straight out of her stomach.

Her mind was a different entity, though. Half of her days were spent revolving around him, whether they centered around the laughs, the sex, the pain, or the fight. He was still there somehow and he always would be. Lucy may have kicked the habit of Spot Conlon but there were still plenty of wounds -- inside and out -- that would remain forever.

Then there was the issue of the battle between Manhattan and Brooklyn. She had still yet to make amends with the boys she once considered her family. She was still too fearful of how they would treat her, for the insults they had slugged in her direction were enough to make her feel the roller coaster of guilt all over again. She wanted to shake them so hard until they believed how sorry she was for the whole thing but she knew it was best for her own insanity to just let it be.

She could hardly spend forever going back to feeling guilty, so she tried her best to keep her head held high. Though it was painfully difficult, she put the emotions she felt towards the Manhattan newsies in a metaphorical jar onto a metaphorical shelf, for that was the only way she could properly deal with them. In time, she had to trust, they would come around to forgive her; those who were not willing to do so were never really deserving of her friendship, or at least that is how she figured it. It took a great deal of mental capacity to fully understand and accept this fact -- her actions were irrevocable.

So she found her source of comfort in other ways -- in Jack, David, and the rest of the Jacobs family. She swapped the time she had once occupied with Spot for time with Sarah and Esther, helping around the house and being in their good company. Without this kind of company, she was unable to navigate the murky waters of relationships and broken hearts. She had done that on her own. She learned that the hard way. She never wanted to go without that kind of presence.

And so it would seem that Lucy kicked her addiction entirely. She was on her road to being one hundred percent clean. Yet there was one last thing that would test her strength and will power: the meeting between the leaders of Brooklyn and Manhattan. She had known it was coming and she knew she wanted to somehow be witness to it.

Obviously, there was no way she would be allowed in the actual room. Lord knows what mayhem would ensue as result of that. So she and Les had sneakily gathered all the information of the discussion -- exactly who was going to attend, when it was going to be, where they would be located. She felt a little dishonest going behind their backs for this, but she rested peacefully on the fact that it was nothing compared to the damage she had already done.

"Can you see 'em?" asked Lucy just above a whisper.

They were in the smallest alley she had ever seen and it was tucked away between two restaurants she hardly recognized. Les was crawling his way down the wall and peeking behind the corner, peering in through the windows.

"Yeah, yeah! I see 'em!"

"What're they doing, who's there?"

"Jack and David on one side 'a the table…Spot and another guy on the other. Obviously is second-in-command…"

Lucy scoffed disgustedly. She could picture the second boy in her mind and she hated the image she saw. "Well, where are they, are they close?"

"Not real close."

"Well, can you hear 'em at least?"

"No."

Lucy threw her hands up with impatience. She rubbed her temples and centered herself. Calm down, her inner self instructed. She listened and folded her hands in front of her. She lurked around the building corner and took a look inside. There they were. All four boys. Just as she pictured them. She muttered obscenities at the sight of the Brooklyn boys. Her eyes flickered away and she saw a window near their table.

"Les…" She instructed him in detail that he needed to provide a distraction. She was going to slip across the restaurant since the windows in front were huge, into the alley on the other side of the building, and stand just beneath the window to eavesdrop on their discussion.

Les nodded sternly. He rushed inside and hurried to the leaders' table. Lucy peered inside and watched David's annoyed expression and the rest of the boys watch the little newsie. She made a break for it and sprinted across the windows and skidded into the alley. She slammed her back against the brick directly beneath the window. She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard David say, "Les, go. You can't be here."

As she heard Les's quick footsteps exit the restaurant, Lucy felt her heart start pumping. She felt the delicious taste of adrenaline trickling through her bloodstream at the nearness to danger. She reigned it in a little, sure not to get too carried away this time, and listened. She could make out the voices so clearly:

"So, anyway…" started Jack. His voice was strong. Profound.

"Kelly, we wanna cut to the chase." That was the second-in-command, she was certain. "We ain't interested in playin' fair. None 'a you'se guys were playin' fair last week at Medda's, what makes ya think it's okay now?"

"The point is, we're not stupid. We know how much of a threat Brooklyn is," began David in a calm and serious manner.

The second-in-command scoffed and Lucy pictured a smirk. Spot was silent.

"But that doesn't mean we can't take it, don't twist my words around," scathed David in response. "Manhattan isn't fooling around either. We won't back down and give up. That's not what we plan to do."

"So what's the point, then, huh? Why're we even heah?" asked Spot's assistant.

Lucy was downright shocked to hear Spot was strangely mute throughout the discussion. Perhaps he decided to stay the strong, silent type this time -- even though that was just as chilling. Spot, she knew for a fact, could send shivers up the spine of even the most daring person just by looking at them.

"Because we ain't gettin' carried away this time," said Jack. "We ain't gonna stand by and watch boys from both sides get picked off left an' right. Now if it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'se gonna get but --"

"Obviously that's what we want, Kelly --"

"Then let's settle this with one big rumble. Huh? One big finale to set it all on fire, one stand to determine who's the winner. Whadda ya say?"

"It's a culmination. This is the cleanest way to do it. A gentleman's way to do it," added David.

Silence. Lucy wondered if her hearing was shot for a moment. She wanted to hear the second-in-command's reaction, let alone Spot's. Spot was still silent. It was as though he wasn't even there. She heard Les trotting towards her in the alley making all kinds of noise. She smacked her hand to cover his mouth at once.

Why wasn't Spot saying anything?!

"It's gonna lead up to this anyway, let's just get the point, ya know?" said Jack in the absence of speech from Brooklyn's side of the table.

Lucy heard the two opposing boys mutter to each other but she still could not hear Spot's voice, not even a whisper and she was very familiar with what it sounded like at low volume. It was his second-in-command still doing all the talking. She stepped up to her toes to get a better listen. Spot's partner scoffed angrily at his lack of speech and spoke for the both of them.

"I donno about that, Jack," the Brooklyn boy began.

David and Jack sighed in unison and shifted in their seats. Lucy could hear the tension building faster now.

"C'mon, at least give it a minute," said Jack, his voice straining to keep cool.

"Look, Kelly, we'se bein' real patient with ya heah --"

"Just scrap it."

Lucy felt her nerves jump at the new voice. It was Spot.

His partner fumbled for words. "What? Spot --"

Lucy covered her mouth to keep silent the gasp itching to get out. Had she heard that correctly? Spot had just said, "Scrap it," did he not? Was that a new term she was unfamiliar with? Scrap?
"Finish it. Stop it," he added.

Another muffled gasp.

"No, no, no --"

"Yes. Let it go." His voice was intense in a subdued sort of way, low in volume but with just as much passion.

"Wait, what are you saying here, Spot?" asked David.

She heard Spot get up from the table. "I'm sayin' there's nothin' to fight for."

His second-in-command was audibly speechless, making stuttered noises and fractions of words, for Lucy as well was just as stunned to hear what conversation was taking place. That was Spot, wasn't it? Her eyes had not deceived her? Finish it. Stop it. She was not going crazy or having delusions -- those were the words Spot Conlon most definitely uttered.

David and Jack were silent, disbelieving.

"Hold on, Spot, let's stop and think about this…" the second-in-command pleaded.

Spot sighed a painful sigh. His next words were in the same low, intense voice. "I screwed this boy's little sister and spent a night in the refuge for it. I'm sayin' there's nothin' left to fight for." His heels turned and his footsteps towards the door resounded through the silent restaurant and in Lucy's eardrums.

"What was that?" asked Les, in just as much shock, if not more, as Lucy.

"I…" she started.

There were no words. Lucy rotated her head towards the street. She saw Spot passing by the alley. She did not think but she made a break for it tearing down the narrow space and into the street. His walk was deliberate and a little fast but she ran after him.

"Spot…" She tugged at his shoulder.

He turned around and only for a split second did his silvery, intense eyes match with hers. He started to dart his gaze every which way to avoid looking at her. He put his hands hard at his hips and he rocked uneasily between awkward stances and strained facial expressions.

Lucy could hardly form words. Those quick movements, those awkward muscle twitches and visible tension only meant that he felt nervous. Anxious. Guilty. She knew because she had exhibited every bit of them in her own right during the relationship and the recovery period thereafter.

"You…Why did…" she started, her limps trembling.

"Well -- You said -- You nevah thought you'd see the day," he spoke through labored breaths. He was so tense about what he had just done, she could register every strand of internal conflict laced with his outwardly frazzled exterior.

"See what day?"

"That I'm an honorable bastard. Ya happy now?"

She gulped. "You did this…for me?"

"No," he was quick to reply. "Not for you. I wasn't ready to risk war for you. I did this…Look, you can't always win everything, right?"

Part of her wanted to reach out to him. She refused to believe he was not doing this for her -- sure, he was not going to go and fight for her to claim her. He was not going to fight to defend her honor. He was backing down to defend his honor. It was his honor that she, in every right, had shot down when she stood up to him and let 'er rip in her apartment. Her words, the very essence of her soul and the fiber of her being, had shaken him to his core.

"No," she finally responded. "You're right, you can't always win."

She never thought in a million years that this would be possible. So you could imagine the blackest kind of satisfaction Lucy selfishly felt at seeing him affected so strongly by what she said.

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, his trembling bicep that was still warm and strong in her gentle grasp.

He stopped fidgeting. He looked down at her hand and caught his breath.

"Spot."

He brought his other arm up and gripped her wrist. It didn't hurt her. Nothing he could do now would hurt her. She let go of his arm and their hands made their way to each other, their fingers intertwining in the slightest way, and their hands fell into the space -- the significant rift between them -- until they each let go.

He finally looked up at her, his eyes that were once so powerful and magnetic to her, were far less spectacular. He eyed the new length of her hair, his expression unmoving. He brought his hand up and ran through the short strands slowly, sending tiny little shivers shooting up and down Lucy's spine. She closed her eyes and grabbed his hand. She paused a moment to feel his last touch and pulled it away from her face.

She felt her hand catch the cool, barren breeze once his hold on her was released.

She was free from him.

"Take care 'a yourself, Lucy."

She gulped. "You too."

In a slow motion moment, like Lucy's world was put on hold for just this moment, Spot kept his eyes locked with hers as he turned around.

She was too stunned to speak or let her eyes flicker anywhere else. She forced herself to watch him leave until slowly but surely he was gone, lost in the streets and in the crowds of people. It was an image she knew she would never let go, this photo in her mind of him walking away.

"What exactly did you do to him?"

Lucy came back down to Earth for good now, her feet planted safely on the ground.

David's voice swirled into her ears. She stuttered slowly she turned back around. "I can't exactly say. I'm not so sure myself."

The air was clearer now that the intoxicating force of Spot's presence that once constricted her so powerfully was gone from her lungs.

Despite the vulnerability Spot had just shown to Lucy, she felt he was still an enigma. The part of Spot she always wanted to see, the deepest point of him, was only glimpsed by the act of defeat he had executed. She wondered how long he must have stayed up wrestling with that decision, going over Lucy's words again and again and again, driving him to lose his mind and question his own sanity. For the first time, he surrendered Brooklyn because he knew that honor was the only thing he could never achieve.

"I can't even speak…" said Lucy, throwing her hands up at her loss for words. "I'm still in so much shock. Spot Conlon, he really forfeited this fight?"

David nodded. "Yes."

"I affected him that much," she confirmed, a hint of question still intertwined in her voice.

He sighed, a smile starting to crack on his face. "Apparently so."

She gently placed her fingertips over her mouth. "I am so…"

David breathed a careful laugh. He curled a piece of her chestnut brown hair behind her ear, the same place Spot had touched, and finished her broken statement, "You are somethin' else."

She smiled a weary, broken smile. He placed his arm around her shoulders and they made their way back towards the restaurant.

Not once did Lucy look back where Spot had walked. Not at the street, not at the Brooklyn Bridge which she could still see in the distance. It was always there, though, the Brooklyn Bridge. And as long as the territory had a name and reputation, Spot would always be there too.

Only now…Now it would hang its head for a moment in defeat because Spot had been significantly moved, for the first time in his life, by a girl.

Lucy could not say she affected his heart. No, certainly not the heart; she could not take credit for that. They had had an intense infatuation and merely that, yet she had grazed his soul, his essence of being, like a bullet and struck him the way he struck her.

Jack was standing against a wooden pole outside the restaurant. His face was still in utter surprise at the sudden twist of events, but he looked at Lucy and shook his head. He wanted to smile and laugh as though everything was going to go back to normal but he could not. He placed his signature black hat atop his head with a complacent smile about his face, for now things were different and he accepted that.

The Manhattan boys were starting swarm in now, all so very quickly in the know about what had happened, how Lucy in a change of current had managed to save them from a disastrous war with the most feared territory in New York. Their faces were different now. Racetrack, Blink, Mush, Skittery, Specs, Boots, all of them -- their attitudes changed. For this girl -- as David had told her -- was something else. She was their sister. This realization echoed clearly through everyone's thoughts.

Lucy labored a laugh in the presence of these boys but eventually it started to feel natural again. Her addiction may have surged through her veins for the longest time, damaging and weakening her to the point of giving up entirely, but there still remained that very simple thought: blood runs thick. Her family -- Jack, David, the Jacobs', the Manhattan newsies -- ran thick in her veins. No addiction, no matter how irrevocable, could ever change that.

"You hungry, Luce?" asked David at the table.

"Yes."

"Good. This one's on me."

Racetrack tossed a cigar her way. "Smoke up, kid."

Jack laughed and shook his head. He took the cigar from her setting, knowing full well she would not smoke it. As he struck a match to the Cuban he nudged her and asked in a voice very low, for Jack hardly relished in sentimental moments, "Ya fixed now? Gonna be okay?"

Lucy inhaled and sighed thoroughly. "Yeah."

And then the thought came to her mind as the feeling settled comfortably inside her, Lucy was finally free from the drug that was Spot Conlon. Whole, healed, clean. Free.

THE END

A/N: Sigh. Thanks for sticking with me for the whole story. Thank you all a million times over for your reviews and support!